


The Ocean is a Very Old Fear

by nothingbutregret



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Other, Victim Fights Back... Unsuccessfully, rape as hubris, whatever entitiy manifests as a sea monster noncons jon sims
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-08 05:16:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21470656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingbutregret/pseuds/nothingbutregret
Summary: Jonah makes sure Jon understands how grateful the other powers are.
Relationships: Jonathan Sims/The Ocean
Comments: 5
Kudos: 70
Collections: Naughty List 2019





	The Ocean is a Very Old Fear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seinmit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seinmit/gifts).

> you told me to go weird so i hope this is. anything.

He's on the deck of a small boat, clinging to the railing as the storm around it kept getting worse. 

The idea, in his mind at least, was to charter a boat to the States. Martin's gone ahead and seemed to get across fine, probably because he had the sense to book a flight before everyone decided that flying was a bad idea, what with the sky being the way it is lately. But aside from the nauseating rocking, Jon thinks boats are definitely the way to go. 

The thing about the storm, it blocks out the thousand eyes glaring at him, him, only him, all the time. So a little sea sickness? Definitely worth it. 

The captain assures him he's done runs like this before, and everyone's made it out just fine. And when Jon Asks, he tells him a bit more nervously that one kid drowned over a decade ago because he was playing to close to the edge. Jon thanks him for his honesty, because he really does appreciate the tip. 

He can stay away from the edge. 

The thinking, with Martin going ahead, was this way they might have a running chance of getting away from it all. If two wanted serial killers could just disappear into the hustle and bustle of American living then why couldn't they? 

They've thought it through. 

They're being smart. 

Who does the sea belong to anyway- it's all way too muddled right? You think flying, that's definitely Vast, but then the ocean? That's so many of them all mixed together and at least Vast and Buried together, and they hate mixing. 

He's being very smart. 

Except of course, he's never had the best track record with that sort of thing. 

When the storm seems to calm down, Jon leaves the room he was given for the trip. Well, room is generous- it's a cramped tight space that he's glad to be out of. It's still overcast, still windy and miserably cold, but the boat is rocking only the normal amount a boat is supposed to rock. Fresh sea air is good for the heart, Martin told him, a little delirious. Understandably, what with all of the eyes. And the everything else. 

The salt clings to his skin, its in his hair, on his clothes. Clinging to his eyes when he keeps rubbing them because water keeps getting in. It got in his mouth some how, and he swears he can feel literal salt granules against his teeth. 

And thats when the waves seem to pick up again. Or, wait no. Water on the deck is just soaking through his shoes. All of his clothes are wet, clinging to his body in an instant. 

“You're Sims right?” He jumps at the captain's voice. 

“Ah-yes?” 

“Right, uh-” He swallows, rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Some man radio-ed, said you'd know him, to pass on a message.” The panic turns his stomach instantly. “He said, uh, I have a note here.” He holds it out and Jon doesn't move. 

He's only going to fall for that once. 

“Read it.” The man glances down. Shrugs. Very blasé about the entire thing. 

“Right-” He lifts it up to his eyes, as if he doesn't even remember writing it. “Jon, this little charade is cute of you. For a valiant effort, and a belated thank you, certain factors would love to impart how grateful they are for you. Enjoy. And next time, don't think you can run.” The man even takes on Jonah's affect, and it's like Jon is being dressed down in Elias' office all over again. 

And he would love to tell Elias, Jonah, who ever, _whatever_ to go fuck itself, but that's around the time that the salt starts to calcify and he goes rather stiff. 

“What-” He can barely make the word out before the- the- the water? The ocean spray? The rain? Something wet starts moving against his body, tracing patterns against it like dozens of hands palming at him. 

They're cold, they make his skin crawl, but it's the most he's been touched by anything since maybe the coffin, or maybe even Nikola's constant fondling. It's really overwhelming and he can barely move. The water runs along the back of his neck, tracing a line all the way down his spine before running between his legs which really makes him try to lurch away, but all that gets him is falling over onto the deck of the ship. 

There's a weight on him, the water feels heavy, pressing down like the entire ocean is here with him, for him. Are they-it? Going to kill him? No- No- right, Jonah wouldn't let them, not after all his work- 

“Fuck-” He scrapes his arm on the deck, rubbing as much of the salt off as he can. That's at least his hand free, just in time for the water to brush between his legs again. Fuck- Fuck- This can't be happening- With his free hand he tries to cover himself, but the water clings to his skin and it feels like there's just more of it there now, dripping from his hand through his trousers and pants and brushing very specifically against his dick. 

What a shitty thank you gift. 

“Stop- Stop-” It's mumbled. He shoots a glance at where the captain was but if he was even real, if he was ever real, he's gone out of sight. 

If the sensation of water clinging to his body was weird, and if the sensation of water moving around like ants on his skin touching him everywhere was weird, but when all of the water pools at his dick and start rubbing at him it stops being weird and shoots directly to horrifying. 

There's nothing to kick, nothing to run from, even if he could because the salt still clings to his legs. 

The water that was cold in the beginning of all of this starts warming up and even worse still starts feeling kind of- 

No- No, Jon- he can't be serious- 

But the water brushes against his dick, squeezes in that way that makes heat bloom on his chest and his toes curl. 

He keeps trying to push it off of him somehow, but all he's doing is adding more friction, fucking helping it, making it warmer, making it enjoyable. He swallows, more salt, and tries to free his other hand. 

He's actually getting hard- He's actually- He feels like he's on the verge of tears. His hips jolt when theres finally enough water to cover all of his cock, make him feel like he's in something warm and wet, like he's being fucked by something warm and wet even if his sick is straining against his soaked through pants. 

He brushes against it, trying to get it off again, but maybe thats just an excuse he's telling himself because he wants more friction, because he wants more heat- is it Jonah shoving those thoughts into his head or are they real, is he really so fucking pathetic that he's going to let ocean water get him off? 

And it is getting him off, is the thing. It's malleable and soft against his skin, getting warmer as he gets warmer, as he starts leaking into the mess in his lap, his on pre adding to the heat. He feels like he's burning up, like this is the most depraved thing and what's worse he's actually enjoying it. 

It strokes him, hard and faster and he feels sensitive and on edge the entire time until his hips jerk so hard the salt stuck to his side actually cracks and he comes hard, the water turning a little thicker as it jerks him through it. 

At least it's over. 

At least he can die of shame alone. 

And then it- it doesn't so much as prod into his hole as it just slides past the muscle and Jon screams again, scrambling, finally free enough to try and get away from it- but where is he going to go when it's already in him.

His own come is already in him. 

When he stands in a panic, wincing as the salt scratches his legs, he can feel it slosh inside and if he though he was warm before he's a raging inferno now. The water is still moving- he can feel it rub inside of him, rub against him, hot and worse still fluid, and it gets everywhere, like its searching for something.

He makes it about three big steps towards the cabin before it finds his prostate and starts hammering into it so hard he practically topples over again, only barely managing to grab on to a few of the crates tied down on deck. 

“Shit-Shit-Shit-” He can barely think because all of the muscles in his legs, in his stomach are quivering and he's hard again, pressing against his wet clothes. He drops to his knees. The water in him just will not let up- jamming at his nerves like a joy buzzer. He shoves his pants down, the salt crackling as he does, and tries to get- to get what- 

He has a finger inside of him before he can even think and the water stops just long enough to- is it laughing- is it laughing in him? The vibrations that deep inside of him send another wave of delirious pleasure- fuck- fuck he just wants it to stop, let it fucking stop. 

The ship starts rocking again, like the entire ocean is laughing at it him. He wouldn't be surprised if it was, at this point. The water in him resumes its aggressive ministrations. There's no finesse, no delicate attention, just jamming at his prostate until Jon is crying, hot tears spilling down his face. 

He's never been this hard in his life but he can't even think to put a hand on himself again, he can't think to do anything as it just keeps fucking him harder and harder and harder until he's coming again, over the deck floor and he has no choice but to stare at his shame.

The water calms down, even though it still glides around in him it doesn't touch his abused prostate anymore. So that- that's something. 

He stands up shakily, tugs his pants up to his hips and sighs, trying to rub his face clean. 

He didn't notice when the clouds parted. 

He does notice thousands of eyes glaring down at him. 

It feels like they're laughing too. 


End file.
